Have you, by any chance, heard of the ‘tradwife’ movement? Perhaps I am a little late to the game, but I only just discovered the term. My initial reaction was one of amusement because this lifestyle has long been known to those in the kink-world as ‘taken-in-hand’ or ‘1950s household’ dynamics. For a moment, I wondered if this was yet another example of kink entering the mainstream world, just like with the whole fifty shades debacle. I have to admit it got me a little excited at first because, as you know, Master and I are in such a dynamic, and so I thought, “Hey, that’s me, isn’t it? Am I a tradwife?”
In summary, yes, yes I am. However, my initial discovery led me to a plethora of other articles discussing this movement and some of its ideals in greater detail. I uncovered certain problematic associations… the term has been tied to white supremacy and even the Nazis, drawing comparisons between the tradwife and the type of housewife promoted by the Third Reich. Honestly, coming from Asia, wives fulfilling traditional roles are not uncommon at all. They are dying out due to the rising cost of living, but I know many wives who have given up their careers to focus on their families. No one really bats an eyelid. But then again, they aren’t championing their way of life on social media!
And therein lies the problem… What I find deeply concerning is that some tradwives and their supporters are of the belief that the rightful place of women is at home. This- this is something I absolutely do not agree with. I might be a submissive and I might be a stay-at-home wife, but I am also very much a feminist. I think that it is imperative that women have the power to make decisions about what they want to do with their lives. I think the aggressive manner in which some content creators promote their way of life as being the one TRUE way of life detracts from the accomplishments of feminists in the past decades. Side note: Doesn’t that sound familiar? I know of one too many TRUE ‘dominants’ trumpeting their style of BDSM as the one TRUE way.
Nevertheless, my little foray down the rabbit hole got me reflecting on my own dynamic, in particular the nature of my household. Master and I are in a very traditional set-up by choice, which makes me by definition a traditional wife, a tradwife. I would like to reclaim the term in a positive manner, dispelling the toxic arguments put forth by extremists. This is not a woman’s place, just as not every woman has to be submissive. I choose to be a tradwife and I choose to be submissive because this works within the confines of my marriage, and more importantly, it makes me happy. But seriously, you do you.
When asked to define my dynamic, I personally prefer the term ‘taken-in-hand’ simply because I don’t identify with the aesthetic of the 1950s housewife. Lol. Yes, I know that’s very shallow of me, but hear me out. Florals and perfectly coiffed curls are not my thing. I don’t imagine many housewives in the 1950s run around in sexy Wicked Weasel (google if you don’t know) outfits during the warmer months and trackpants in winter. I mean, I try, but I don’t always look put together when I’m at home. I guess Master would like it if I were, but really, I’m too lazy. There are days where I look absolutely fuckable and days where I look like I’m homeless.
We hadn’t always intended for me to be a tradwife. Prior to our move to France, we were prepared for me to take a year or two to focus on picking up the language and figuring out what I wanted to do for work. However, we’ve found this way of life to be very fulfilling for the both of us. Yes I know, I can talk, considering I don’t have to work. All I do is cook and keep house and I have all the time in the world to focus on the things I love. But from Master’s perspective, he very much appreciates that he can channel all of his focus into his work without worrying about his next meal or having to clean the toilet or to take out the trash. We eat healthily and well, and the house is always spick and span.
So this has been my way of life for the past year. I’ve been a fulltime homemaker/slave to Master and I absolutely love it. My job is everything house and food related, done according to Master’s preferences, if any. My job is to ensure Master is happy, comfortable and sexually fulfilled. And on top of all that, my job is also to continue working on myself. I work out and eat healthily to keep myself in good shape, I work consistently on my French and I also work on improving my cooking, baking and housekeeping skills. Would I change anything? No, I wouldn’t. I think, as a submissive, I am very much fulfilled being of service to my Master.
Yes, there have been changes in autonomy, but coming from the perspective of a submissive in an M/s dynamic, it’s very much normal to me. Master always has the final say in all big decisions. What television should we get? I don’t know, Master decided on it. Should we get a second car? I guess so, if Master thinks it’s within our budget. If I really want to go to a restaurant for a meal, I make a request and Master decides when is best. Sometimes, it’s the following week, sometimes later. However, if you consider the fact that I don’t even get to decide when I cum next, this all seems pretty paltry in comparison, no?
And this leads me back to my first question. Have you heard of the ‘tradwife’ movement? What are your thoughts? From the perspective of a female submissive who already lives by many of the ideals of said movement, should I/we be focusing on reclaiming and redefining the term, or should we be distancing ourselves from potentially problematic associations?
I have “affectionate cruelty” listed as one of my kinks on FetLife, but what is it exactly… apart from being an oxymoron? I know for a fact that I dislike submitting to someone who hurts me for the sake of hurting me, such as someone who identifies as being a sadist. I can take a lot of pain, I welcome the emotions and sensations of being hurt, both physically and emotionally, but I need to know that it comes from a place of love.
Let me try and break it down further. A sadist might say, “You’re so worthless, you deserve to be hit. I’m going to enjoy breaking you and I hope it hurts.” On the other hand, a dominant practising affectionate cruelty might say, “I love it when you debase yourself for me. I’m going to enjoy breaking you, but only so that I can make you whole again.” Ok, I’m sorry if that came across rather cheesy, I hope you can see the difference.
Master has a very mean side. When he wants me to hurt, he makes sure I hurt. For example, two nights ago, Master had me bent over our bed, weighted clamps dangling from my sensitive nipples, my ass taking stroke after stroke of the cane. I was trembling from the sheer volume of pain affronting my senses: my nipples felt like they were on fire and every stroke of the cane sent ripples of searing pain through my body.
At some point, Master delivered a hard stroke to my ass and while I was still recovering, he yanked the clamp off my left nipple. Of course I screamed bloody murder. And then he said, “You didn’t see that one coming, did you? But there’s still one more clamp on and for this one, you will. Do you think the anticipation will make it better or worse?” The answer to that question, dear friends, is that it’s a lot worse when you see it coming… at least for me.
But Master doesn’t just hurt me physically. He’s also an expert at emotional sadism. Within the same scene, he asked me, “How does it feel to know that you’re not going to cum tonight and that after I’m done using you, you’re going to be locked back into your chastity belt?” And of course he was true to his word. He used my pussy only as a lube dispenser that night, preferring to plunge his cock down my throat and ass to get himself off. My pleasure was immaterial, as it often is when we play. And when he was done, he sent me to clean myself up and then locked me right back up in the chastity belt.
I love this side of him, this display of cruelty. But what I love even more is how he takes me in his arms at the end of every scene, rubs my back and kisses my forehead. How I know, without a doubt, that I am his main priority, the love of his life, his person, his property. I am a masochist but it doesn’t mean I enjoy being hurt by just about anyone. I only want it when it comes from a place of love, because he knows that this is what arouses me, that this is what I need in order to feel desired, to feel loved.
I had a nightmarish wet dream last night… it was terrifying yet hot. It wasn’t with Master or it would have just been hot. It was with someone I both knew yet did not know – a stranger who was at the same time my ex dominants combined. How freaky is that? Let’s call him Strange Dom. When Strange Dom did something to me that I linked to a memory, he would resemble that particular person. And then he would do something else and he would change. The transformation was subtle and inobtrusive; I remember being startled when I noticed he was someone else. I have no idea what I consumed during the day, media, drug or drink, that could have influenced such a dream, but one scene stands out in my memory and ties to a topic I want to write about today – triggers.
We were in a room, not quite a whole apartment, but also not as small as just one bedroom. A studio apartment, maybe? Anyway, Strange Dom had a D-ring mounted on the wall and he had attached my ankle cuff to this with a long chain. In my dream, I was cognisant that I was supposed to be with Master and not Strange Dom. I wasn’t happy to be his prisoner, but I didn’t want to show it so I was very casual about everything. Meh, there’s a chain but guess what, I can reach the couch so I’m just gonna chill here and not give a fuck about whatever. Clearly, Strange Dom wasn’t too happy about that so he walked over, grabbed my nipples between his two thumbs and forefingers and pinched. Hard. I remember the intoxicating rush of pain and arousal and me doubling over and onto my knees on the floor.
I have the first Dom I ever met in my life to thank for this memory. I was 17 when I met him for a scene. I was young and stupid so I hadn’t set up a safe call nor ascertained that he wasn’t a serial killer. The scene didn’t go so well, but I lived. But what I will never forget is how he ‘broke the ice’ with me, pushing me from super-shy-to-meet-you to yes-please-let-me-serve-you in a matter of seconds. I hadn’t even removed my clothes; I’d barely assented to start the scene when he pinched my nipples through my blouse and squeezed hard, just like in my dream. I have really sensitive nipples so it doesn’t take a lot for them to hurt. He went from zero to over the limit in seconds, but what it also did was kickstart my submissive engine and push my endorphins to overdrive.
Over the years, I’ve identified many other triggers that help push me into submissive headspace. My neck is a hotspot, regardless of whether Master has a hand around my throat or nape. My nipples continue to serve me well, but so does a well-timed slap to the cheek. A tug of the hair, a knee between my thighs, and of late, anything to do with my chastity belt. Triggers are such delicious things once we know and learn them. It always melts my submissive heart when Master plays me with such… mastery. I feel like a well-oiled machine or instrument that only he knows how to get going. Sometimes, I feel that it’s unfair. Even if I were mad or upset at him, I wouldn’t be able to prevent him from using one of my triggers against me. Of course, Master never does… He’s too much of a gentleman to play dirty, although I sometimes wish he would.
I read a post by Naughty Nora recently in which she described her fantasy life. That got me feeling rather inspired and I decided to take her lead and do the same. But first, some context to explain my motivation… Master and I haven’t been living our best M/s life for the past couple of months. There are many factors. My sudden aversion toward cuckqueaning some months ago plays a part. Master’s backbreaking work schedule plays another. But then there is also something very exciting that inadvertently drew our focus away from kink. We have spent the past few months searching for and procuring our forever home, or at least for the next decade. You can imagine the amount of time and energy that went into this endeavour, so I suppose it is no surprise that we haven’t been too focused on M/s.
In slightly over a month, Master and I will be shifting into our first owned property. I’m delighted, to say the least. It is a four-bedroom duplex apartment located in a small town to the south of Lyon where we currently reside. Between the two of us, that is a lot of space. I know that it is probably not surprising to those of you who live in places like the US, but coming from Singapore, I’ve only ever known small spaces. Anyway, with so much space comes so many possibilities. Master and I have talked and come to the mutual decision that we would really like to restart our M/s dynamic in the new year, building it up systematically until we shift into our new apartment, at which point we will have the structure in place with no bad habits to fall back on.
Let me clarify what I mean by ‘bad habits’. When I am accustomed to a certain way of life, there is a tendency to fall back into those routines when the focus on M/s wanes. For example, we had, for a period, set up my sleeping space on the floor of the living room, akin to a pet bed. That was really hot when the dynamic was strong, but once we got busy with other things, I wheedled my way back into bed with Master, and that’s where I’ve been ever since. I like to think, perhaps naively, that if we set up the rules and structures from day one, I won’t feel entitled to something I never had. Certainly, I have no clue if this will actually work, but Master likes the idea of permanence in some of our rules, so that is something we will work towards. Some other less consequential ones can be lifted when needed, such as in the event of an emergency or illness.
In my writing, I allowed myself to imagine my best slave life. I have a pretty vivid and ambitious imagination, particularly when horny, so there are some bits that will probably not be explored in real life, but we are using my writing as a reference for discussion. In essence, my wishlist is (1) for us to put in place certain restrictions to very clearly mark my role as his slave, (2) to add to my current list of tasks, ideally to include tasks of a sexual nature, and (3) to safely reintroduce cuckqueaning into our dynamic.
On cuckqueaning, I’ve spent the past couple of months thinking and overthinking our recent experiences. I’ve pondered what went well and what went wrong. I came to the conclusion that I want need to be cucked. In truth, it is the only thing I think about when masturbating. It is the only type of porn I gravitate to. I loved certain aspects of the experience, namely the way it added to the intensity of our play and the way it lent authenticity to some of the restrictions we have in place. For instance, Master doesn’t focus on my pleasure when we play, and while I can absolutely find this hot through the lens of his fuck toy, it is just that much hotter when viewed through the lens of his cuckquean, particularly when I bask in the knowledge that he does indeed very much so focus on pleasuring his other partners. I also figured out that I have a tendency to fixate and obsess when I know too much about the other party. I see her as a direct contender and fear he will replace me. Perhaps if his ‘conquests’ were nameless and faceless (and we stanced this lack of knowledge as a privilege I was not allowed), it might be easier for me. Again, this is pure speculation, but Master agreed this was an interesting angle worth exploring.
So without further ado, here’s my take on ‘My Fantasy Life’…
The alarm clock rings at 7.30am, signalling the start to a new day. Every morning, I am to wake at least an hour before Master needs to start getting ready for work to tend to his needs. I start the day by putting my bed away. I sleep on a quilt intended for the convertible sofa that functions as a guestbed. As his slave, I am not allowed to sleep on the sofa, so I sleep on the quilt laid out on the floor beside the sofa. The guest room, which also houses most of my belongings, is located on the first floor of our two-storey apartment. It has an attached toilet and shower, the only ones in the apartment I am allowed to use.
I neatly fold up the quilt and deposit it, along with my pillow, in the wardrobe of the guestroom. Technically, it is my room since all of my things are in it and it is where I spend the most amount of my time. My desk and computer are in it, my craft materials, even a good proportion of my clothes, and we don’t even have guests stay the night often. However, Master is adament that as a slave, I must never believe that I have a right to anything. All of these are simply on loan to me, and Master can take them away just as easily.
After making my bed, I freshen myself up. I wash my face, brush my teeth and wash my pussy as best as I can underneath the steel chastity belt I wear pretty much permanently. Master only removes it when we go out, but I have to wear a butt plug whenever the belt is off, so I never forget what I am. The steel shield of the belt is tight across my genitals, cutting off access to my clit and pussy. Well, that’s not quite true. I can still access my pussy by sliding the shield to the side, but the most I can insert is a finger at an awkward angle. Hardly satisfying. I can, however, insert and remove tampons, thus I wear the belt even when I am on my period. I daresay this is the most difficult time because everything is sensitive and the belt only heightens my perpetual arousal.
Anyway, I clean myself up just in case Master chooses to deposit his sperm in my pussy, more lovingly known as my lube dispenser and cum hole. He never fucks it anymore; he always uses my ass or mouth till he is very close and then finishes in my pussy in just a few thrusts. It feels good though, I can’t complain. I know my pussy doesn’t deserve his cock, so I am contented to take what I can get, even if it is just a few seconds of fucking. The only reason why Master even bothers with my pussy is because we are trying for a baby. I can’t imagine what will happen after we succeed or if Master decides we will remain childless. I suppose I will have to be thankful for the few half strokes he gives me to lube his cock up before plunging it in my ass, or the annual pussy fucking I get on my birthday, also our wedding anniversary, just to remind me of what I have given up to be his slave.
When I am done, I climb the stairs and enter Master’s bedroom as quietly as I can. The time is now 8am, just half an hour before he has to start getting ready for work. I give him a gentle kiss on the cheek and wait for him to acknowledge me before slipping under the covers. He takes me in his arms and warms me up before telling me to wait. Master heads to the toilet to pee and then returns to bed. This is my cue to start his morning blowjob. I make my way between his legs and take his cock in my mouth. There is a drop of residual pee, but I lap it up greedily, knowing that fuck pigs take whatever is given without complaint.
I work hard at Master’s cock, licking, sucking, using my hands when my mouth tires. Soon, I hear him groan I feel his hand at the back of my head, urging me to keep going. I know this means he is close so I maintain the momentum, stroking his shaft and sucking his cock head at the same time. He cums with a loud growl, filling my mouth with his seed. I swallow hungrily, just a little bit disappointed that my pussy won’t be getting any attention but I’ve gotten used to serving Master without reward. I emerge from under the sheets to his wide smile. “Good morning, Master,” I say, settling into his arms for a little bit of morning cuddles. “Good morning, piggy,” Master replies, kissing the top of my head. We stay like this for awhile, and then Master goes off to freshen up while I prepare his breakfast.
A cup of coffee and a small bowl of yoghurt and fruit await him as he descends the stairs. “What is your plan for the day, piggy?” Master asks. I fill him in on my goals for the day – an hour of French class, an hour of yoga, a trip out to get some bread, how much writing I hope to achieve, etc. I also run through my list of slave tasks – an enema to prepare my ass for fucking, 30 minutes with the nipple clamps on while I practise my deep throat skills on a dildo, and at least an hour with the butt plug inserted. I may not have to work, but my days are filled serving Master and working on myself.
“I have a date tonight so you don’t have to prepare dinner for me. I don’t want you eating rubbish though, so just a salad for yourself. Make sure you take a photo of your meal and send it to me so I know you aren’t being a greedy piggy. No need to clean your ass today, clearly I won’t be using it. You will, however, go through the entire list of your cucking tasks when I’m out, sending me pictures to prove they are done. As usual, don’t expect a reply since I’ll be busy enjoying the company of a real woman, but I want to see that you know your place. Do you understand, piggy?”
I swallowed hard. “Yes, Master.”
“Don’t look so sad, piggy. Come here, kneel at my feet.”
I did as he asked.
“Why do I fuck other women, piggy?” Master asked.
“Because I am just your fuckpig, Master.”
“And what does that mean, piggy?”
“It means I’m your toy to use when you need a warm hole to cum in, Master.”
“That’s right, like a living breathing fleshlight. And remind me, what do I do with real women that I don’t do with my fuckpig?”
“You make out with them, you go down on them, you finger them and you give them plenty of orgasms.”
“And do you get any of these, piggy?”
“When was the last time we made out?”
“We don’t, Master. You only peck me on the lips, but I never get your tongue in my mouth. I make out with your feet, Master.”
“Exactly. And why don’t I make out with you?”
“Because I use my mouth to make out with you feet, lick your ass and suck your cock, even if it’s dirty from fucking my ass.”
“That’s right. I wouldn’t want to make out with that dirty mouth hole of yours, would I? And when was the last time I went down on you or fingered you?”
“I don’t remember, Master… Before we moved to France?”
“And do you think you deserve to have my mouth or fingers on your pussy?”
“No, Master. Not ever.”
“Good piggy. But I do enjoy eating and fingering pussy, just not yours.”
I swallowed hard again as I felt my pussy gush from Master’s words. “Yes, Master, piggy knows it doesn’t get to feel Master’s mouth or fingers on its pussy, except maybe on its birthday.”
“Very good, piggy. And finally, when was the last time you came, piggy? From your clit of course. I don’t care how often you cum from your ass.”
“Erm… 3 weeks ago, Master.”
“Yes, and tell me how you came.”
“Piggy gave itself a ruined orgasm with the vibrator over the chastity shield.”
“Ah yes, that’s right. It made me laugh to watch you struggle so hard to cum in your belt, only to have to ruin it. But that’s the only way you cum these days, if absolutely necessary. And when was your last proper orgasm, piggy?”
“Piggy can’t remember, Master.”
“Well if you’re a good piggy and an even better cuck, maybe you’ll get to cum on your birthday. Would you like that, piggy?”
“Yes, please, Master.”
“Now, remind me of what you have to do tonight while I am out fucking someone else.”
“I have to wear my piggy hood for the whole evening so I always remember what I am when I look in the mirror. I am to write Master a heartfelt letter thanking you for cucking me. After that, I have to insert my anal plug, and tease my clit over the chastity belt with the vibrator on low, imagining you fucking a real woman. If possible, I am allowed to edge three times. If not, I will stop after 30 minutes. Once done, I am to write lines until bedtime. I will write the line “It is Master’s right to fuck whoever he pleases because I am just a fuckpig.” over and over again until 11pm. I will sleep with the anal plug inserted tonight, so I remember that when Master fucks me, my ass is filled but my pussy always stays empty, unlike the other women that Master fucks.” I’ve memorised this spiel so it isn’t difficult to regurgitate it. I repeat it to myself often when I need a reminder of my station as Master’s cuck.
“Good piggy. Now that doesn’t mean I won’t fuck her in the ass, but I will very much enjoy her pussy. Anyway, none of that is relevant to you, is it?”
“No Master. Piggy has no right to know anything about who Master fucks nor what you do with them.”
“That’s right. If I’m in the mood, I might tell you a little but it’s none of your business, is it, piggy?”
“No Master, it’s none of my business.”
“Good. Now get on with your day. I have to work. I love you, piggy.”
“Yes Master. I love you too,” I said before getting up and clearing Master’s dishes.
And this was our life. Once a week at maximum, Master would head out for a few hours to meet and fuck someone else – a real woman. I never knew if it was the same person or if it was someone new. We realised that when I had a name and face to fixate on, that was what I did – obsess – and I would get overly worried that I was going to be replaced. So instead, I was no longer privy to that knowledge. When Master was in Paris, he would sometimes drop me a text with instructions to do my cucking tasks that evening and I’d understand that to mean he was meeting someone. Or sometimes he wouldn’t tell me at all until he returned. When he was home, he would tell me the morning of his date. All of this was so that I wouldn’t have time to overthink.
It was difficult initially, but I think I’ve come to accept it as part and parcel of my life. In fact, there are rewards to being cucked. I get to spend the following night, sometimes two, in Master’s bed. He also sometimes give me little momentos from his dates – a picture of the restaurant he’s taken his date, the used condom wrapper from their time together, even a used g-string on one occasion. I keep all of these in a box that I look through whenever I needed a reminder of just how pathetic I am. Sometimes, I do so just before I start my cucking tasks for inspiration. And of course, Master always takes a renewed interest in me after fucking someone else. He pushes me a lot harder in our scenes and breaks me down just a little bit more than usual. I particularly love it when he makes me thank him for cucking me while caning me hard.
Master has hinted that he will eventually start bringing his dates home to fuck. Master likes the idea that everytime I am allowed to sleep in his bed, it is with the knowledge that countless other women have been pleasured by him in it. Just not me. I will probably be confined to the guestroom while they are over, or maybe even the garage, as Master has suggested. I can’t say the idea doesn’t turn me on, and knowing Master, it will be a reality sooner rather than later.
Master wants us to revisit this piece of writing, drawing ideas on how we can proceed. I’m eager to hear his thoughts – what resonated with him and what didn’t. As always, he has the final say, but I am blessed to have an owner who constantly listens and takes my needs to heart.
Recently, I had a very interesting conversation with a female friend living here in Lyon. She’s Asian, like me. She’s also equally pint-sized, and like me, partnered to a French man. So, I’m sure the following is a generalisation but we both share the same issue with regards to our partners. Namely, they are built too large for our anatomy. Like me, she often experiences pain during sexual intercourse and they often have to pause after the initial insertion and then take it very slow. Many positions, as you might imagine, are out of the question. For instance, she can’t ride him. I have issues with this position as well because Master’s cock hits my cervix when I’m on top. Missionary with my legs over his shoulders is also a no-go. We usually stick to missionary, doggy (with adjustments as this can go pretty deep too) and belly down (our favourite). While she didn’t quite share exactly which positions work for her, she had a different concern.
She and her partner are kink-curious. Not quite full-fledged kinky, but they enjoy a bit of power play in the bedroom. They both identify as switches, but while he has dominated her, she has yet to return the favour. Her concern is that if she can’t ride him, how can she effectively take control? In her mind, it would be quite the anticlimax if she were to get him all turned on, and then not be able to fuck him in what she perceives to be the only dominant sex position she can have over him. I understand her concerns entirely. It is true that mass media has ingrained in our minds the concept that a woman in control in the bedroom always has to be on top. But is this so? While I can’t solve her issue of being able to ride her partner without pain, I was able to open her eyes to the multitude of other ways in which a woman can dominate her man/partner without needing to be literally on top.
For starters, who says that kink always has to end in sex? I know it seems a little bit rich for me to say this, considering that ALL of my scenes with Master end in sex, but in my experience as a professional dominatrix, they never did. Of course, there were other factors at play, namely that any form of intercourse/penetration of me was out of the question. I did not engage in fellatio, cunnilingus, anal or vaginal sex (of me) with my clients. If anyone was to be penetrated, it was them. And whilst the premise might have been safety/professionalism at the time, why can’t a dominant woman take all or some of these off the table if she decides? The fact of the matter is that plenty of women do not even orgasm from intercourse. When I masturbate, for instance, I never use insertions. A vibrator on my clitoris is my go-to, and whilst I have tried pairing this with a dildo/vibrator, I’ve found that they do very little for me. Upon enquiry, she shared that she has the same preference, so then, I proposed that a scene in which she is in charge does not have to end in traditional sex.
I shared with her that with kink, the arousal comes more often from the mental than from the physical. Yes, of course, the physical plays a big part. But, even with the physical, I challenge that it is the suspense from not knowing absolutely what is going to be done to you next that drives your arousal, rather than the actual ‘doing’ itself. Considering that they are both beginners to kink, I suggested she start by levelling the playing field through restraining him to the bed (easily done with ties/scarves to the bed posts/legs), blindfolding him (similar ammo) and then playing with sensation, followed by a heck of a lot of teasing. If I were in her shoes, I’d throw in a bit of mindfuckery by teasing him till he finished, then chiding him for not holding back and using that as the rationale for why he won’t get to fuck me. I’d then finish myself off gloriously with a vibrator while he’s either forced to watch or only permitted to listen (if I can’t masturbate comfortably with eyes on me). But, it’s important to note that most men have a period of post-nut clarity so this might be too much for her partner on the first go. I suggested she be a little kinder in delivery.
I found it to be a very stimulating conversation and I do hope she actually tries what I’ve shared with her on her partner. There is nothing more satisfying than having someone with whom you can experiment on kink with, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re hatching new scene ideas and trawling physical or online sex stores together to add to your new collection, which, trust me, will grow very quickly indeed. I’ve talked to quite a number of women, usually vanilla friends, who, upon finding out that I’m kinky (I tend not to hide this aspect of me from my peers), share their reservations about taking a dominant role with their partners in the bedroom. I think society has imposed the idea that women are supposed to be more submissive in bed, and it takes a very special sort of woman to throw this notion to the wind. When I first started exploring my dominant side, I faced similar challenges. I wasn’t confident in the beginning. I planned all of my scenes from start to finish (still a good practice), and I even relied on a script to know what to say. But really, it’s somewhat like riding a bike. The more you do it, the better you get at it, the less tedious the preparation needs to be. So to the women out there who are hesitant at taking the lead (but who want to, of course), just grab the bull by the balls and take it for a spin.
Locktober is nearly over. There are just five days till the end of the month. I haven’t cum. My last orgasm was on the last day of September. It hasn’t been a particularly difficult Locktober for me. Master has been extremely busy with work so we haven’t played that much. That’s not to say it was a famine; we did manage to squeeze in a handful of very satisfying sessions in the past three weeks. I’ve had short bursts where the arousal was quite heady, but more or less, it’s been a nice slow burn.
I’m not absolutely certain that I’ll get to cum once Locktober is done. Master has hinted that he likes me on denial. I’m easily aroused and a lot more submissive. At this current moment, I can’t say that I have much of an opinion on whether I get to cum or not. I do enjoy being kept in the state of denial, and I havent quite peaked yet. The last time I was denied for a long period, I held out for two months… or was it three? I’m not sure. Anyway, I haven’t reached the point where my body is screaming for release and I think I’d like to get there before cumming. But it’s up to Master, of course.
I’ve been thinking a lot about my marriage of late, in a good way. I’ve been feeling very grateful to the universe or God/fate for bringing me and Master together. I’m not particularly religious, but I do believe in a higher power. I’m agnostic, I’d say. I find it incredible that I found the love of my life in someone born in an entirely different continent from me. Had Master not made the decision to head to Asia to work, we’d never have met. The irony is that it was his then-girlfriend who had pushed him to make the move, so I guess I have her to thank.
I just watched a series on Netflix called “From Scratch” about an American lady finding her soulmate in Italy, whilst on a six week long art immersion programme. I highly recommend it if you need a good cry. It’s a real tear jerker and had me bawling towards the end… to the point where Master had to text me: “Stop crying, piggy. I can’t wank.” I thought that was hilarious, of course, and so he was then treated to the ugly sounds of my laugh-crying/cry-laughing.
The show made me reflect on the work we have done to merge our different cultures. When Master was in Singapore, he had to learn about my culture, meet my family, learn how to communicate with them. And now that I am in France, it is an ongoing process for me to learn the language, the culture, the social nuances. There are a lot of differences. For instance, my family is quite typically Asian. We rarely touch, we rarely display emotion. It’s been eye-opening for me to see just how warm and caring his family is towards one another.
Recently, my father-in-law had to undergo an operation. It was relatively low risk, but there’s always a risk when one goes under the knife. The night before, he texted/called all his children to tell them that he loved them. I wasn’t expecting a message but I received one. He told me that he loves me like a daughter, and asked me to continue taking care of Master should anything happen to him. In the moment when I received the message, I was extremely emotional, but I also felt sorely ill-equipped. I didn’t know what to say in response, settling for something that did not quite encapsulate what I felt.
And this is something I am learning – to say what I mean and mean what I say. In getting to know Master, his family and other French friends, I’ve come to realise that they rarely hide their thoughts and opinions from you once they consider you a friend. This is so contrary to the Asian way of doing things. At home, the closer you get to a person, the less likely you are to want to offend them. Often, we censor our words so as not to create conflict and to avoid confrontations.
Here, the sharing of thoughts and opinions in the form of healthy debate is expected and appreciated. There is no shame in having your opinion challenged as it’s all done in good spirit. We do not shy away from confrontations and the night still ends on a high note even if the conversation runs a tad tense. Of course, we stay away from the very sensitive topics (like politics on which nobody can agree) because the objective is not to offend or argue for the sake of argument, but to engage in intellectual discourse about a variety of subjects. I appreciate this.
I feel like I have gained so much from Master. On the personal front, he has taught me to better express my emotions, to manage and let go of my anxiety, and to be a happier and more present human being. When we have disputes, he encourages me to share my thoughts and feelings and he does the same, all without pointing fingers. And then, together, we mutually decide on a course of action to take. We don’t shy away from apologising to the other, and we always end our disputes with a good long hug and multiple ‘I love you’s.
On the ‘life’ front, he’s given me a new home – one I absolutely adore. I often feel guilty about barely missing Singapore, but it is the country that carries a lot of heartache for me… with my ex, my dysfunctional family, my life lived for others but not myself. Here, I feel content, free and at peace. After so many years of fumbling around in the dark, wondering whether every relationship needs that much tolerance and effort to make it work, I am so thankful to have a husband who leads our household with strength and confidence and who tells me things like, “You’re a wonderful wife. I hope I deserve you.”
Sorry this wasn’t particularly kinky. Just some thoughts in my head that I really needed to put into words. 🙂
The past two weeks have been incredibly dreary. Having spent the previous seven full weeks in intense M/s mode with regular cuckings and plenty (and I mean plenty) of play, being forced to put everything on pause for a fortnight feels like a huge slap back to reality. Except, it isn’t MY reality.
Don’t worry, nothing’s happened on the relationship front. Master and I are still very much in sync, our contract is still very much in force. We are just both recovering from Covid. We are at the tail end of the infection right about now, but it hasn’t been an easy two weeks.
When I say everything has been on pause, I mean it. I haven’t been sleeping in the closet, I haven’t been wearing my chastity belt, I haven’t even been wearing my collar. I need to sleep well in order to recover, I had indisgestion which made the belt inconvenient, and the collar made me cough even more.
I have been incredibly horny, but up till today, my body hasn’t felt capable of being beaten-up and ass-fucked hard the way I would like. I haven’t been feeling altogether submissive either. It was difficult when my brain was perpetually foggy and the pressure from my swollen sinuses overrode most feelings of arousal.
But good god, I really desire to be beaten down. Bless Master, I’ve been quite unmanageable while being ill. The sexual frustration from not being able to play, not being able to cum, not being able to do very much at all put me on edge. I’ve been rather sharp with my words and nonchalant with my actions. I know I’m going to pay for it when we next play, which I’m really hoping will be tomorrow.
Master made a comment that it’s interesting to see how my personality is so different when I’m vanilla and when I’m not. Of course, he ended off by saying that he can’t wait to dehumanize me again, because apparently, I’m a lot less insufferable that way. 😂 Can’t deny I prefer myself better that way too… But it’s interesting in these moments of clarity to identify just how different I am when I’m a happy piggy.
Maybe we need to think about how better we can cope with future bouts of illnesses so they don’t upend all our hard work. Or maybe there really isn’t any way around it but to trust that we can pause things and pick them up right back again.
This weekend has been a bit of whirlwind for me and Master. I discovered the cause of my migraine that I complained about in my previous post. It was hormones. I had the worst cramps the night that Master returned from Paris, and then I basically become Subzilla over the next two days.
My mistake was not telling Master that I was having PMS. I’d told him about the cramps, but I guess it didn’t register with him that I’d be suffering moodswings. It is true that I’m not always in a bad mood when I have my cramps and I guess I didn’t realise just how emotional I was till I was triggered. I really do feel bad having put Master through my hideous outbursts, but I have to give it to him. He handled me like a champ!
On Friday night, we had our first scene of the weekend. Master was very committed to stretching my ass as wide as he could that night. It did not take much warming up before he was able to insert his cock and the similar sized dildo in my ass at the same time. He then tried to penetrate my ass alongside the larger dildo (with a diameter of 4.5cm), but this proved to be too intense for me. He managed to get both in, but I had to ask him to back off after a few seconds. He decided not to push it, bearing in mind it was only Friday and we were probably going to play another two times over the course of the weekend.
I was pretty horny. The cucking scene had gone well on Wednesday night and we’d yet to wrap it up. As Master slapped his cock on my clit, an act that was actually quite painful, he taunted me with little tidbits of his night with Ms D before delivering this punchline – “Think about what you’ve lost.” That got my mind in a good humiliated cuckquean space, thinking about Ms D getting the tender clit attention while I got the abuse, and that this was the only form of clit attention I would receive that night.
My ass was very well-stretched by that point, having been double penetrated by all combination of cock and dildos we owned. When Master eventually stopped dick-slapping my clit and penetrated me, I did not feel much and I knew he would probably struggle to find friction. It was a quandary. I couldn’t cum, but neither could he.
At some point, he gave up, telling me that I was too loose to pleasure him, and to make up for my ineptitude by using my hands and mouth instead. I crawled between his thighs and took his cock in my warm mouth, using my hands to stroke him in tandem with my mouth, the way I knew he liked. I looked to him for some acknowledgement, but he’d picked up his smartphone and was busy scrolling, maybe surfing porn, maybe playing some online game… I had no clue.
What I did realise, however, was that this bothered me immensely. You would think that, being a cuckquean, I’d relish the feeling of being ignored or cast aside in play. But the truth is, I hated it. Honestly, this is a scene that has played out too often with my ex-dominant and I strongly disliked the memories it brought back and also the accompanying negativity. Yet, I also knew what Master was trying to achieve, it was just another form of humiliation. I got it, so I tried to get into it.
I worked hard, I really did, but he was losing his erection. (I really think he was on Reddit, not porn.) Anyway, he pushed me down on my belly, told me off in a disgusted tone of voice for having to do everything himself, and then proceeded to fuck my ass till he came. The time-out had allowed my ass to regain some tension, so while I still couldn’t get enough friction to cum, Master could. This part was hot, I really enjoy it when he uses my ass to get off, but by that point, I couldn’t shake off the bad mojo from the previous segment.
During our debrief, I damn near chewed off his ear telling him how that part of the scene had made me feel. He told me it had not been his intention to make me feel lousy, it had been meant to humiliate me further. Rationally, I knew this, but emotionally, I could not let go of the negative feelings. I blame the hormones but I was pretty unmanageable that night. I flat out refused to sleep in the closet, haha.
I do credit Master for being possibly the most patient man alive. He knew it was the hormones speaking, I was super aggressive and I did not sound like myself at all. He just kept repeating that he’d heard me, he wouldn’t recreate that scene again, and asked what he could do or say to make me feel better. After an hour or so, I’d finally calmed down and I apologised for my outburst.
We discussed my trigger and came to the conclusion that I require connection and engagement when we play – a lot of it. Humiliation only works when I feel humiliated, not angry. And for that, he could not ignore me. If he had used his words and gaze to humiliate me for having too loose an ass to pleasure him, thus my task of getting him off with my hands and mouth, that would have been hot. I also shared with him that cuckqueaning for me CANNOT lead to me being less desired. If anything, I need to feel even more desired after each cucking, even if it doesn’t play out with a traditional pleasure-focused scene. Again, we’re still learning and figuring things out, and this was an important lesson.
Saturday went a lot better for the two of us. We had a really intense scene in the afternoon followed by a nice dinner at a bouchon lyonnais across the street. Master could tell that I was feeling a lot less submissive because of my hormones, which we had by this point acknowledged. However, I was still horny and I badly wanted to be manhandled and forced into physical submission. It was the mental submissive headspace which remained rather inaccessible, no matter how hard I tried. As a result, we focused on the physical for this scene, with a bit of cuckqueaning humiliation brought in for extra fun.
He started by giving me some impact. I had bought a couple of new impact toys for his birthday – a flogger, a dragon tail whip and a short thick delrin cane. He used all three on me, but eventually gravitated to the cane as it’s the easiest to wield for the maximum amount of pain. I will admit this was very welcome. I needed to get out of my own head and the pain was a nice focus. As he hit me, he told me to think about the difference in treatment between me and Ms D. She got all the nice touches, the clitoral attention, the focus on her pleasure. I got the pain. That was hot.
Master told me to lie on my back, hugging my knees to my chest. He lubed up my ass with my overflowing pussy juice before sticking the smaller of our two dildos in it. It went in with zero resistance, none at all. Master started telling me that my ass was looser than Ms D’s pussy and that soon, I wouldn’t be able to pleasure him with it at all. Of course I felt like telling him that this was nobody’s fault but his, seeing as his new hobby was inserting anything and everything up my ass at the same time, but I kept my mouth shut. See, I can control myself when I have to.
It wasn’t long before Master was double penetrating me in the ass yet again with the same dildo. I felt him reach for the larger dildo and I forced myself to relax as best as I could. It took a little bit of manoeuvring but he managed to make it fit along with his cock. This time, it was a lot easier to take. I still felt filled and stretched beyond belief so I had him stop moving for a while in order to get accustomed to the sensation. Ater a minute or two, I gave him the cue to start moving slowly. He managed to fuck me with the large dildo in my ass for a little… Perhaps a minute. Eventually, I had to ask him to withdraw for the discomfort was quickly becoming overwhelming. Still, it was progress!
My favourite part of the scene was the end, when Master came in my ass. He inserted the smaller dildo into me while I was lying face down on the bed and told me to hold it in place. I shoved my arms under my torso and grabbed hold of the base of the dildo with my fingers on either side of my pussy. I was so wet and slick it was honestly difficult to get a grip. I hoped I wouldn’t slip up at the last moment and ruin Master’s pleasure. That would be funny, wouldn’t it? Lol. Maybe not so much, hehe.
Anyway, with me holding onto the dildo, Master slipped his cock in on top of it so the bottom of his cock was rubbing against the length of the dildo as he fucked me. That was… possibly the hottest thing we have done in a while. I could not cum at all because the dildo was stationery in my ass and I think I need stimulation on the front wall of my rectum for any orgasm to happen. I just felt really full and really used. I lay there, mostly silent except for the occasional whimper, feeling like a sex doll. Master fucked me really hard this way until he finally came in my ass. When he slid his cock out, his cum snaked down the length of the dildo, pooling at the base. He told me to walk to the shower with the dildo still in my ass and only to remove it when I was safely in it. Haha!
After our scene, we cuddled for a long while before getting dressed and heading to the bouchon lyonnais, a typical small homely Lyonnais restaurant, for dinner. I was well fucked and pretty satiated in the kink department, but let’s not forget I was still prickly as fuck. The night ended with us having a very very long talk about our dynamic and cuckqueaning. We are still honoring the contract, for sure, but we acknowledged that I need a few things we hadn’t realised before.
For starters, he’s given me the right to call a pause to our dynamic when I feel the onset of PMS. We’ll still play, but certain things will be paused, like sleeping in the closet, service-oriented submission. Basically, I get a time-off for a maximum of three days per month, if the need arises. If my PMS is manageable, as it sometimes is, I don’t have to activate this. Still, it’s comforting to have this option, and on Master’s end, it’s also a small cost to avoid facing Subzilla again. I also now have the option to pause the cuckqueaning dynamic for a period of a week, mainly to be activated if the previous week’s cucking was especially emotional.
We also realised that I cannot deal with being compared to Ms D in ways that are non-physical/sexual. It’s hot for me when Master highlights the difference in sexual treatment between me and her, or even between our bodies, but it’s not hot when he talks about her successes as a person, or how much he admires her. It’s not that I don’t think she’s impressive, I’m sure she is. I guess I just prefer to think of her as a sexual competitor and nothing else. It might also be that I harbour some self-esteem issues from being his full-time slave, having once been in a high-earning profession. I suppose this will change over time as I come to let go of my own hang-ups that are fueled by societal pressures. But for now, I really can’t deal with this form of jealousy.
Master has been absolutely patient and stellar in dealing with his Subzilla this weekend. I’m still a little touchy today, but the edge has definitely gone away. I’m going to be a lot better with monitoring my period calendar and identifying red zones in future.
Psst… For those of you who think Master is very lucky to have me, I am quite a handful, as you can see. LOL!
This post is more introspection, less sex. Master and I have not had our customary “wrap up” scene. We usually have a light one on Friday night (tonight) and then an intense one on Sunday. So, this post is more of a summary of how the night went and my thoughts/feelings on it.
This particular cuckqueaning experience was a very positive one for me. As I shared in the first post, I was tasked by Master to apply nipple clamps at the start of his dinner with Ms D, and it wasn’t until 40 minutes later that she sent me a voice message through Master giving me permission to remove them. This little act kept me somewhat involved while being in an entirely different city.
Master also followed up with a picture of his lovely date which made me feel all sorts of things. Ms D is attractive in an unconventional way, which I know appeals greatly to Master. She exudes an air of confidence which adds to her allure. I also know that she is very accomplished, a little nugget of information Master slipped in, that got me feeling rather small. And then there was the fact that they were enjoying food and wine in what looked like a very nice restaurant. This got me a little jealous as Master and I rarely dine out, usually only on special occasions. (Note: Nice dinners are a reward for my good behaviour, thus they are not an entitlement I expect as Master’s wife.)
The rest of the night while they adjourned to Ms D’s place and played was quiet for me. Master updated with short texts here and there, but I was otherwise on my own. This is probably the part where it started getting a little difficult. Still, I knew Master would be returning to his room for the night, and I had asked for him to text me when he left. If I was still up, I badly wanted some time on a call with him. I went to sleep in my piggy bed, though I knew it would be fitful.
And this is where it got a little bit awry. I awoke just past 2am and saw a few texts from Master saying he was done and would be leaving soon. These had been sent about 30 minutes prior at 1.30am. So I got in touch, hoping to catch him on his way back, but was met with silence for close to an hour. Logically, I knew that he had probably forgotten the time and was still at her place, but I started getting very anxious. Anyway, when he finally checked his texts at 3am, he let me know he was leaving and we had our call.
I’ll admit I was fuming. I felt extremely out of control having him disappear on me the way he did. However, on his end, he’d assumed I’d gone to sleep and didn’t feel the need to update me again. It was a classic case of miscommunication and the experience taught us the importance of very regular check-ins for me to feel secure. It also made me realise that I personally require a debrief call with Master after each scene, sort of aftercare for me. Even though I am not physically present, the whole experience is in essence a very intense emotional scene.
Although this part of the night was challenging, I’m really happy it gave us an opportunity to discover my needs to keep me feeling safe. We had a good talk and I identified two things. The first, as mentioned above, is a debrief after the scene. The second, I discovered quite unexpectedly. I discovered that it really bothers me in a bad way when Master spends the night with someone else. When Master had failed to respond to his messages, my brain had instantly gone down the rabbit hole assuming he’d fallen asleep and would be spending the night, and that was not ok. I didn’t realise it at the time, but it was precisely the sleeping over that had made the previous two cuckings so difficult for me.
However, I didn’t know why this mattered so much to me and I wasn’t able to express it to Master either until last night. I attended TheKinkShrink’s workshop on jealousy and she explained there were two types between couples – sexual jealousy and emotional jealousy. That’s when it started to make sense. I fetishize sexual jealousy, but emotional jealousy is currently a limit. I relish the jealousy and humiliation from Master playing with and fucking someone else, but I am unable to process the jealousy of him being intimate with someone else and potentially developing feelings. Sleeping sans sex with someone else is a whole lot more intimate than fucking, and this makes me jealous in a bad way.
I’m reassured that Master is respectful of my needs and willing to give me time to embrace the situation. We agreed on certain boundaries (no sleeping over, a call at the end of the night) for the time being, until I get more comfortable with the whole situation. I am aware that emotions will inevitably develop in any relationship, play or otherwise, and I am also aware that not spending the night is arbitrary in nature. I am certain that I will be able to accept this eventually, but for now, this helps me a tonne.
On the upside, Master is very taken by Ms D, so taken that he shared he would like to see her exclusively. I am surprisingly comfortable with this. I find Ms D to be very respectful of our dynamic and interested in contributing to it. And honestly, the knowledge that just one other woman is getting all the pleasure and orgasms that I’m not is HOT. This opens up so many more possibilities in the future for a more intense cuckqueaning dynamic. I do seek her patience in allowing me to get used to things little by little, as I have always been able to do in the past.
I am well aware that it is not possible to prevent the development of feelings, even if a relationship is supposed to be purely sexual. Over time, fondness and attachment grows and I am prepared for that. Master and I had a good discussion and agreed that our dynamic would always take centrestage. I still hold the right to my safeword, but I agreed not to use it unless my boundaries are breached or our dynamic is affected. For now, I think this is the best deliverance of control I can manage in the context of cuckqueaning, and I am comfortable with that.
Finally, I have so many ideas on how I see this dynamic potentially growing with Ms D, but I think that deserves its own post. I’ll end off by letting you know that I wrote her a nice little thank-you message for taking such good care of Master. I really hope she likes it. 🙂
A kinky friend whom I exchange with regularly asked me today whether a part of my desire to be cucked might stem from an inner fear that I am not enough to keep Master interested for a lifetime, and whether the ‘high’ I enjoy from cuckqueaning might in fact be a response to my martyrdom and self-sacrifice. This was perhaps too complicated a question to wake up to, and after banging out a sleepy response to her on Telegram, I continued to give the topic more thought over the course of the day.
The first part of the question is easy to answer. It is true that I lack positive examples of happily married couples who have withstood the test of time. Take my parents, for example. After thirty over years of marriage, one horrid extramarital affair that wore the entire family thin and a honeypot scam that rendered the family near penniless, they decided to call it quits in an extravagantly hostile manner. It shouldn’t be too difficult to imagine that this had a very negative impact on me. It might also have been the push that led to the dissolution of my first marriage; the moment it became very apparent that I didn’t see myself growing old with him anymore, I initiated the separation.
Nonetheless, the above coupled with the wearing down of my self-esteem, confidence and value by my ex-husband does not make for a good recipe. So yes, I will readily admit that despite the time and effort my Master has put into picking up the pieces of my broken soul, teaching me to love myself again, it is challenging for me to have the required confidence in myself to truly believe that I deserve him. Deep down inside, I do feel that he is too good for me.
I feel like I lucked out. Somehow, I struck the lottery with this one. He’s attractive, incredibly intelligent (he thinks circles around me), well-spoken, interesting and funny. Not just that, he gets me. He seems to always know exactly what I need; he pushes all the right buttons, even when it gets difficult. He instinctively knows how to give me just enough of a push but also provide enough time and space for me to warm up to an idea. I’ve never felt truly afraid nor in danger of being messed up too far over the edge that I’ll lose myself, despite us tangling with some rather taboo topics in our marriage.
And therefore, I don’t deserve him, right? I’m not speaking from my cuckquean heart here, I’m speaking as me. He’s given me the life I could only dream of in the past. I don’t have to work if I choose not to, I have the space to devote myself to being exactly who I want to be. I can pick up projects that I find interesting, learn a new skill, take up a new hobby. He encourages and he provides the opportunities. I mean, he’s given me the chance to make an entirely new life in a foreign country, something many dream of but simply don’t have the resources to undertake.
And therein lies what I find most interesting. In spite of my perhaps crippling concerns that I am not good enough for Master, we’ve taken this and bundled it up and turned it into something we use for play. Perhaps in some warped fashion, this is my way of taking ownership of my insecurities. Yes, I have a deep fear of being cheated on, my father having wrecked the family with his affair. Maybe cuckqueaning is my way of ensuring Master’s need for variety is always met, and by encouraging him to date and fuck other women, it diminishes greatly the need for him to cheat. And I am ok with this, because I’m not just doing it for him, I’m also doing it for me.
This leads me to the second part of the question. Do I enjoy cuckqueaning because I secretly enjoy the idea that I am sacrificing myself? I don’t think so. Honestly, if it were altogether just a negative experience, I wouldn’t be into it. It’s not so much the sacrifice that drives me, it’s the humiliation of knowing I am sending my Master, my husband, into the arms and bed of another woman. It’s the humiliation of knowing she can show him pleasures I cannot, even if, in our case, I am denied pussy sex for the very purpose of this comparison. So, I think, no. I’m no martyr. I’m just a silly little cuckquean who really really gets off on being made to feel smaller in comparison to another. Again, I’m doing it for me, and he’s just a really lucky man (as many like to tell me) who gets to benefit from my fucked up kink.